There is something strange that happens to me after a major change in my life. I get this itch to go out into the world and relive some of my favorite past experiences. I dream of walking through a gentle rainfall in England, laughing with friends, and walking among massive trees and ancient buildings alike. I dream of late nights at clubs with music that pumps through your veins, and the surreal sense that life could never be more real than in that moment. And then, I look around me with a mixture of overwhelming feeling. That part of my life is over. And at the same time, new, even better moments are sure to come.
Still, those thoughts seem to combat each other, warring to overwhelm me, to either make me sad, or make me feel pleasantly content. But to be honest, I sometimes feel sadness begin to win out, that is until I remember I’m a writer. Then, without fail, the feelings of contentment win, because as every writer knows, nothing can be entirely lost when you can write about it. You can revisit places you’ve seen and experiences you’ve had, immortalizing them forever through your words. You can also use those experiences to create completely fantastical experiences, or even make things happen the way you always wanted them to.
So, I guess what I am trying to say is that my life is changing a lot, but my writing makes all these changes just a little bit easier to enjoy without hesitation.